I'm Fine Without You
by Failure Turtle
Summary: Dating a wrestler isn't all that it's cracked up to be. CenaxOC.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Sorry, Brit. But hey, you're still in this.**

**This is for Danielle.**

**I usually don't like writing about Cena, but this is for a friend. If you don't like it, then don't read it.**

**As always with me, flashbacks are in italics.**

"Get up, hun. You haven't moved in three days," Brittany said, lightly shaking her friend, Danielle.

"That's not true," she whispered back to Brittany. "I've gotten up a couple of times."

"Going to the bathroom doesn't count. You haven't done _anything_. You haven't eaten. You haven't slept. This isn't healthy."

"I don't care."

"He isn't worth this, Danielle."

"Yes, he is."

Thinking about what had happened once again, Danielle started crying into her pillow. She pulled the covers over her head to hide from Brittany, but it wouldn't be that easy.

* * *

"_Happy three years, baby!" she squealed as her boyfriend entered the room._

"_Yeah, you too…"_

"_John, something is wrong."_

"_No, nothing is wrong, darling. Let's go." The couple exited Danielle's apartment and drove off to celebrate their anniversary._

* * *

"We need to get you out of this room," Brittany stated.

"I'm quite content here, thank you very much," Danielle once again whispered, too weak to do anything more.

"Danielle…"

"Brittany, I'm fine!" she yelled, speaking at a louder volume for the first time since…

_

* * *

They arrived at a nice restaurant for their anniversary dinner. Throughout the evening, Danielle had noticed that John was a bit…distant._

_She reached across the table and grabbed his hand. She gently stroked the back of his hand with her thumb. "John, something is wrong. You can tell me."_

"_It's…well…"_

"_Come on, John. How bad can it be?"_

_His eyes met hers. She saw how different they looked and instantly knew that something was eating at him from inside._

* * *

"Danielle, you are _not_ fine," Brittany said, sitting down on the bed next to Danielle. "I've been here for three days with you to make sure that you don't do anything stupid. Clearly, I know that you're not fine."

Danielle tossed the covers off of herself and shot straight up. She glared at her best friend who was so kindly taking care of her in her time of need. "Brittany, I am fucking _fine_. I don't…I don't need him."

Brittany cracked a small smile. "You're right."

Danielle slammed herself back down on her back and threw the covers back over her head. She wrenched the pillow out from underneath her and violently threw it against the opposite wall.

"Who the fuck am I kidding? I _do_ need him."

* * *

"_Damnit, John! I hate it when you hide shit from me," Danielle whined, getting angry with John, but never once letting go of his hand._

"_I'm not hiding anything from you," he replied, and he squeezed the hand that was holding his._

"_Then let it out."_

"_We can't see each other anymore."_

* * *

"He screwed you over, Danielle. You don't need that."

"I know, but I still need _him_."

There was a knock at the door, and Brittany left the room to answer the door.

_

* * *

Danielle instantly started crying at his words, even though she didn't believe them. "What?"_

"_It's not you, Danielle. It's me."_

"_That's the worst line ever, John. If you don't l--"_

_John cut her off. "I _do_, Danielle. I'm doing this for you. With my second movie coming up, I'm never going to have time for you. I just…I just think it's better this way."_

"_You know what? You're just like every other stupid guy, John. Let me guess, you're only dumping me so you can go off and fuck all the little groupies while you film your stupid fucking movie? Three years, John. Three fucking years." Danielle stood up and took off the diamond necklace that she hadn't taken off for two years. John had given it to her for their one year anniversary._

"_Danielle, wait--"_

"_Just shut up, John." She started to walk away, but then turned around. "Don't expect me to wait around for you to change your mind."_

_She left the restaurant and called Brittany, her best friend. She agreed to come and pick Danielle up._

* * *

"You said that you wouldn't wait around for him…" Brittany said as she reentered the room.

"Who was at the door?"

"The pizza delivery guy," she answered as she sat down on the bed and opened up the pizza box.

Danielle peeked her head out from under the blanket when she smelled the pizza. "Yeah, well…I didn't know it would hurt this bad. He was my _everything_ for three years."

_

* * *

Danielle let all hell break loose once Brittany came to get her. She cried. She punched the windows. She kicked street signs once they got out of the car._

"_Brittany, can you stay with me for a while? You know, until I get over this?"_

"_Of course."_

* * *

There was another knock at the door. "Mother fucker," Brittany sighed, getting annoyed with whoever was at the door, even though she didn't know who it was.

Danielle rolled over and faced her bed side table. She snatched her iPod off of the shiny wooden surface. She placed the ear buds in her ears and scrolled down her music list. She blasted "She Will Be Loved" by Maroon 5 in her ears. She didn't care how much the loud volume hurt her ears.

It drowned out the argument that Brittany was having at that exact moment.

_

* * *

Danielle did nothing but lay in her bed and watch television. Actually, she really only watched DVDs on her portable DVD player that rarely left her lap._

_She watched John on all of her DVDs, just replaying his matches over and over until her eyes couldn't take it anymore._

_And when that point was reached, she put in a new DVD of John._

* * *

"Um, Danielle…" Brittany called from the other room. Danielle didn't hear.

Danielle sensed someone walk in the room, so she instinctively looked up. She tossed the piece of pizza that she had been lightly munching on back into the open pizza box and ripped the earphones out of her ears. She glared at the man standing in the doorway.

"I'm sorry," John said. "I left filming and flew out here after having a good thinking session about everything. I came here to say I'm sorry and that I love you."

**A/N: Once again, Brit, I am oh so very sorry.**

**You should all go and read "Only One" by Jewelgirl04 (Danielle), and then you shall understand why I had to write this.**

**Review.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I have been wrongfully bribed to continue this by someone who didn't even add it to her favorite stories.**

**Boo that.**

**And I'm already sending my deepest and most sincere apologies.**

"Go away," Danielle snarled, violently smashing the ear buds back into her ears and turning on a very angry song to drown out John's so called apology.

"Alright then," John sighed and turned around, giving up all hope.

"Oh, no you don't!" Brittany yelled, storming up to the man that was causing her best friend all of this pain for god knows how long. "You get right back into that room and fix this! I'm not a fucking babysitter, John. Do you know what fucked up shit I had to deal with because of your idiocy? I know she's my best friend, but I can't take this shit for much longer. I have shit I have to do that I've been neglecting because of you. I don't care how you do it, but you're going to march right back in that bedroom and set this right."

Brittany's anger only multiplied when John returned her little rant with a devilish grin.

"What is wrong with you, Cena?"

"Jericho's single."

Brittany's angry frown twitched a little bit. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"He's finally gotten over the messy divorce and he's ready to date again, so I was thinking…"

"Great, John. That's just wonderful. Just because I spoke my mind, you come up with some random incentive for me to deal with it? That's really nice, Cena."

"You know you're going to double date with us anyways."

Brittany couldn't help but crack a smile. "I know…but that's only _if_ you get her to talk to you. Good luck with that."

"Looks like I'm going to need it," John sighed. He turned around and headed back for Danielle's room, but stopped because he had just one more question for his ex girlfriend's best friend. "I thought for sure that you would have told her to get over me."

"I did, Cena. I told her that she didn't need your bullshit. You left her for a shitty ass reason, and no matter how sick of her I am right now, she doesn't need that. No girl does."

"It comes with being a wrestler's girlfriend."

"No, it comes from dating an idiot."

"You're right," John mumbled as he finally went back into Danielle's room.

He slowly opened the door to find her completely under the covers. Through the blasting of some horrendous death metal song through her headphones, he could hear her sobbing. John carefully tiptoed over to the side of the bed and sat down next to her.

He recoiled a bit when she yanked the ear buds out of her ears. "Brittany, I--" she said as she sat up, but cut herself off when she saw that it was John. "Haven't you gotten enough pleasure out of breaking my heart? Are you here to completely demolish it this time?"

"No, on the contrary, that is not why I am here right now. I'm here to apologize."

Danielle started laughing through her tears, something that John found oddly confusing.

"Why are you laughing about that? I'm being serious."

"Oh, I don't know, John," Danielle ranted sarcastically. "When you dumped me on our three year anniversary oh so cruelly, I didn't think that you'd ever come back. When a person dumps someone so heartlessly like you did, they usually don't come crawling back and apologizing for it."

As upset as he was with himself, John didn't appreciate Danielle talking to him like that. He stood up from the bed and said, "Hey, no one said that I was crawling back to you."

"Then why are you here?"

"Damnit, Danielle! Can't I just apologize? Can't we go back to the way things used to be?"

Danielle slammed herself back down onto the bed and started banging her face with a pillow.

"Don't do that…" John said, taking the pillow away from her as Danielle shot back up with an even angrier look on her face.

"You…cannot…just come back here…and simply say…that you're sorry…and that you love me…and just expect everything…to go back to normal," Danielle gasped in between angry intakes of oxygen.

"Why not? I love you, and I sure as hell know that you love me. Why can't that fix it?"

Danielle jumped out of her bed for the first time in who knows how long. "That is exactly the problem with boys! They always say that girls are the ones that think their lives are like fairy tales, but in reality, the boys are the ones that think that. Seriously, John, you are pathetic! You cannot come in here and say a couple of words and expect that to make everything magically better. I'm not a damsel in distress and you are not Prince Charming. I don't care how many people call you this, but…"

"But what?" John asked incredulously, shocked at Danielle's sudden outburst of hidden aggression.

"You're not Superman," she gently whispered as she jumped back into bed and hid under the covers.

"I _know_ that. I'm the one telling everyone that I'm not."

Danielle let out a disgusted huff and rolled her eyes. "Sometimes, I just wish you wouldn't let your television character get to your head. You're not him."

"I know."

"You know what, John? I can't deal with you right now. You see the state I'm in? This is because of you. You're dead to me right now."

"You know that's not true."

"…Just…I don't know," Danielle cried, once again allowing tears to stream from her eyes.

"Look, I have to go back and film my movie…"

"Of course, filming another movie that's exactly the same as the first one. You have enough money, John. You don't need to keep embarrassing yourself to earn a couple hundred thousand dollars."

That comment stung John's ego a bit. "I'm going to let that little remark slide because I know you're upset with me."

"No shit."

"I have a day off in a week. I'll come back and visit you then…if that's alright with you."

"Not like I have a choice."

"Not like you're going to say no." He leaned over to give her a much needed kiss, but she pulled the covers over her head even tighter and slid deeper into her mock shield.

John left the room, but didn't leave the apartment before being confronted by Brittany. "You really are a jackass, John."

"You never did like me, did you, Brit?"

"Not at first, but then you ended up being a good guy. Now? I don't know what to think of you, to be honest."

"I'll have Jericho call you."

"That doesn't fix a damn thing, Cena, and you know it. See you in a week."

**A/N: Yay, so this is a bit longer than my usual updates…**

**Danielle, now it's up to you.**

**Review.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Cena is lame. Why can't people like cool guys, like…Edge? Hell, even Carlito is better than that guy right now.**

**Sorry, I'm ending my angry Cena rant now.**

"John does plan on visiting today, you know," Chris told Brittany.

"Yes, I'm aware of that," Brittany replied, taking a sip from her Starbucks cup. "Is there anything you can do to make him go away?"

"Brit, John is one of my best friends. I'm not going to stop him from seeing the woman he loves," Chris said, pulling his rental car into the parking lot of Danielle's apartment complex. As he pulled into a spot and turned off the ignition, he turned to the woman in the passenger's seat and said, "And I'm pretty sure that you're not going to wrestle him down to prevent him from seeing her."

"I could…" she trailed off, tracing her finger around the rim of the cup.

"I wouldn't suggest it. I don't want you to get hurt."

"Please, John wouldn't do a damn thing to me. He's all…chivalrous and stuff," Brittany shivered in disgust.

"So, are you saying that I should be meaner to you?" Jericho teased.

Brittany smiled at the man sitting beside her. "I'll see you later."

"I'll call you," Chris said, giving her a kiss on the cheek before she got out of the car and he drove out of the parking lot.

At this moment, Brittany was really unsure if she should still be pissed at John. He did keep his word. Jericho did call her, and took her out on a coffee run, all because John told him to. _I hate John_, Brittany thought to herself. _Chris probably only came because John told him to. Fuck you, John Cena._

When Brittany let herself into Danielle's apartment, she heard muffled screaming coming from Danielle's room. Brittany quickly set her coffee and purse down on the nearby table and ran to her best friend.

"Danielle, what the hell are you screaming about?" Brittany asked.

Danielle was laying face down on her bed, screaming into the pillow that her face was buried in and pounding her fists on the mattress. When she heard Brittany's voice, she lifted herself onto her elbows and turned her head back so she could talk to her. "John is on his way."

"Did he call you?"

"Yeah, he called the landline. I was too lazy to answer so it went to the machine and I heard it."

"I'll go delete it," Brittany said as she left the room, and Danielle continued on with her temper tantrum.

"Um, Brittany? Are you here?" John asked, opening the front door and poking his head it. Brittany had half a mind to kick the door shut and ramming it into John's neck, but she decided against it.

"Yes, shitbag. I'm here," Brittany announced.

"Is Danielle here?" John asked, letting himself in the apartment.

"Dumbass, she hasn't left that fucking room since you dumped her. Do you really think that all of a sudden she'd just mosey on out to the club?"

"John?" Danielle called, hearing his voice and Brittany's angry tone.

"Just go," Brittany mumbled, pointing down the hallway to Danielle's room.

John trudged down the hallway with a mix of excitement and dread filling the pit of his stomach. He was excited to see Danielle after a long time, but he was dreading her possible outburst. _Thank god she's in the room. The worst thing that she can throw at me is a pillow_, John thought, nearly chuckling as he knocked on the door.

"John…" Danielle whispered, but he still heard it. She was lying on her back this time, her hands clasped over her chest. Her blonde hair was sprawled all over the place, but not covering her face.

"Yeah…I'm here."

"Sit," she said, patting her hand down on a spot close to her. John obliged, not wanting to anger Danielle while she was in this peaceful state.

John had issues determining what a peaceful state actually was.

Once John sat down, Danielle sat up. "I can't fucking believe you, Cena! I have barely _moved_ from this twenty foot square piece of foam that is called a mattress! This is all your fucking fault!"

"I've missed you as well," John smiled. He was accustomed to his boyish charm and good looks being able to get him out of trouble with any woman…

…but he forgot that his antics didn't work with Danielle.

"You close that fucking mouth and put away those nasty teeth, John. I'm not some cheap whore that you pick up on the corner and does whatever you tell her to. You lost all right to even attempt to sweet talk me into anything the moment you dumped me on our _three year_ anniversary, you whore."

John had been called a man whore many times before in his life, and it never bothered him. Why? Because it simply wasn't true. However, when it came out of Danielle's mouth, it stung his heart and his ego. "You don't mean that."

"Do I look like I don't mean that?"

John looked up into Danielle's eyes that were shooting daggers back at him. He smacked his lips and stood up off of the bed. "What are you doing in two weeks?"

"Oh, I don't know, John. I was thinking about maybe renting a sailboat and sailing off to Australia. Maybe I'll adopt a kangaroo while I'm there, and buy a koala bear to stuff in the kangaroo's pouch so it can have a friend while we drive around on four wheelers and chase dingoes," Danielle ranted, all in one breath with a blank expression on her face.

If it weren't for the situation at hand, John would have cried from laughter. "I'll tell you this. In two weeks, I'll come back, and we'll go out on a date and have that anniversary dinner that we never had. How does that sound?"

"Like I'd rather stick needles in my eyes and sleep in a pit of lava," Danielle refuted with an evil smile.

"Great. I'll see you in two weeks."

As John headed out to leave, seeing as he had to return to New Orleans and film his second movie, he was stopped by Brittany who was sitting on the couch and watching television.

"I wouldn't count on it if I were you," she said, her eyes not moving from the television screen. She had heard the whole conversation.

"I shouldn't, but I am." He turned the doorknob, but turned around once more. "I told you he'd call."

"How much did you pay him?"

"Negative five bucks."

"What?"

"He paid me five bucks to leave so he could call you in private."

Brittany sighed, ripping her eyes away from her television programming that she really wasn't paying attention to, but was using it as a distraction from John. "Do I have a chance?"

The John in the ring might know what to say, but the real John didn't. "You have as much chance as I do getting Danielle back." He forgot that Brittany wanted him to get her back so she'd be happy, but Brittany didn't believe that it would happen. Danielle was much too stubborn, no matter how much she loved him.

"I fucking hate you, John."

"No! I meant that like you really do have a great chance!"

"Go film your shit movie."

"He'll call."

"And you're going to be one lonely old man someday."

"Probably."

**A/N: I should never try to write while watching the same match over and over for a period of twelve hours.**

**And yes, it was the tag team match at Survivor Series. I like to laugh at Trevor Murdoch's sideburns…or something like that.**

**Review.**


	4. Chapter 4

"Chris, we need to talk," Brittany said as Chris sat down at the table across from her. The two had agreed to meet at a local diner for an early dinner.

"That's never good…" Chris said, sitting down and leaning back, preparing himself for any wrath that Brittany was about to unleash on him.

"Do you know what John really has planned for tonight?" Brittany asked.

"Unfortunately, Brittany, I am not bestowed with the gift of reading John's mind. But I'm secretly thankful for that."

"Ew, I would never want to be in that man's head," Brittany shuddered, still disgusted with John.

"Yeah, you know he has secret gay fantasies about Randy Orton, right?" Chris grinned.

"Chris, I never, _ever_--"

"Want to hear that again?"

"Exactly."

* * *

When Brittany came home from her early dinner date with Jericho, she went to check on Danielle. She was surprised when she found Danielle in her room, but all dressed up.

"You're ready?" Brittany asked. "I thought you didn't want to go."

Danielle was standing in front of her full length mirror in a black cocktail dress with her blonde hair in long curls. Her makeup was done to perfection and she was ready to go.

"No, I really don't want to go," Danielle frowned, staring at her reflection. "I really, really don't want to go."

"But you got ready and…"

Brittany never got to finish what she said because Danielle completely changed emotions on her and started screaming. She rubbed her hands all over her face and messed up her makeup. Her dark eye makeup was now smeared across her cheeks. Once she started to bring her hands to her hair, Brittany was pulled out of her trance. She rushed over to Danielle to stop her.

"Don't you dare touch that hair. It will take too long to fix," Brittany warned in a stern tone.

"But, I--"

"But nothing! Look, I'm sick of you sitting here crying all the time. You're going to go with John and you're going to like it! Hell, after hearing you bitch and moan for god knows how long, I deserve some peace and quiet! I am going to fix you up and then you will sit there and wait for your stupid man like a good little girl!" Brittany stopped her rant to catch her breath. She looked as if Satan himself had possessed her for a brief moment of time. She didn't really want Danielle out with John because she was still sore with him, but she did want a quiet night without Danielle's bitching and moaning. She led Danielle to the bathroom and fixed her makeup back to how it was. She then forced Danielle to sit on the couch of the living room until John had arrived.

When the two girls heard the knocking at the door, Danielle's face went blank. She just continued on staring straight in front of her. Brittany took it upon herself to answer the door, knowing that Danielle sure as hell wouldn't do it. Sure enough, it was John.

"There's your crazy woman," Brittany said, pointing over to the couch that Danielle was sitting on.

"Hey, Danielle, I--" John started, but was cut off when Danielle abruptly stood up and walked over to him. He extended his arms, thinking that she was going to greet him with a hug. Instead, John was greeted with a sharp slap across the face. "…I guess I deserved that."

"Damn straight. Let's go," Danielle ordered, walking out the door and dragging John by the arm.

* * *

The ride was held in silence until John pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. Danielle was the one to break the tension…with even more tension. "John, are you a fucking idiot?"

"I--"

"It was a rhetorical question, scumbag. You're taking me to _the same restaurant_ that you DUMPED me at?!"

"Danielle, it's my favorite restaurant."

"Well, I'm glad your love of food exceeds how you feel about _my_ feelings," Danielle huffed, crossing her arms across her chest.

"We can go somewhere else, if you'd like."

"No, we're already here," Danielle announced, and they walked into the restaurant.

"I can't believe this…" Danielle sighed as the hostess led them to their table.

"What's up?"

As they took their seats, Danielle was looking at a nearby table. "We're only a couple tables away from…"

John gave her a confused look, having no idea what she was talking about. Indeed, they were sitting just two tables away from the exact table they were sitting at when John broke her heart.

"Look, Danielle, I'm sorry about everything. I'm the world's biggest jackass, and I can accept that. But I can't accept us not being together. I just want you to know that…"

Whatever John wanted her to know, Danielle never found out. She kept staring at the table where she had once been, which was now occupied by a very happy looking couple. In her mind, she kept having flashbacks of the worst night of her life.

"_John, something is wrong. You can tell me."_

"_It's…well…"_

"_Come on, John. How bad can it be?"_

"I know that it will take you a lot of time to forgive me, and I'm willing to wait. If I have to take you out on the road with me, I'll do it. If you want me to bring you the moon, I'll do it. I just want us back again."

"_Damnit, John! I hate it when you hide shit from me."_

"_I'm not hiding anything from you."_

"_Then let it out."_

"_We can't see each other anymore."_

"And I know that you want us back, too. I know Brittany is trying to fill your head with the idea that you don't need me or whatever, but I know that you need me. _You _know that you need me."

"_What?"_

"_It's not you, Danielle. It's me."_

"_That's the worst line ever, John. If you don't l--"_

"_I _do_, Danielle. I'm doing this for you. With my second movie coming up, I'm never going to have time for you. I just…I just think it's better this way."_

"_You know what? You're just like every other stupid guy, John. Let me guess, you're only dumping me so you can go off and fuck all the little groupies while you film your stupid fucking movie? Three years, John. Three fucking years."_

"_Danielle, wait--"_

"_Just shut up, John. Don't expect me to wait around for you to change your mind."_

"Danielle, are you listening to me?"

Danielle never snapped out of her trance. However, John turned around when a bit of a commotion occurred from a nearby table. He noticed Danielle's eyes grow wide when she looked at the source of the commotion…

It was happening at the table that she kept staring at. The man was bent down on one knee with a ring box opened towards his girlfriend. He was proposing and everyone in the vicinity was looking on at the scene.

Danielle saw what was going on, and she started shaking.

John looked back at her and sighed. "I'm the world's biggest douchebag."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Danielle, I'm on a severe Cody withdrawal. And Brittany already heard about my little…**_**crush **_**on Reid Flair. Oh dear, this is going to be dangerous. **_**Very**_** dangerous. And it doesn't help that the Bucks played Indiana tonight…Oh, god. I'm sorry, I meant "Oh, Edge."**

"Oh, world's biggest douche bag doesn't even _begin_ to describe you, John," Danielle snarled as tears started pouring down her eyes.

"Don't cry, Danielle, please," John begged, reaching across the table to grab her hands, but she angrily pulled them away and shot John a death glare. "Jesus Christ, woman, I try to do one right thing…" John muttered under his breath, but it was a mistake. Danielle heard him.

"One thing? _One thing_? You _try_ to do one thing? Oh no, fucker, you didn't _try_ to do anything. You didn't _try_ to save us, alright? You didn't _try_ to do anything. You are a lazy son of a bitch. I hope you know that. If you wanted to try, you wouldn't have broken up with me in the first place. I guess you love the camera more than you love me. You know what? Fuck you," she finished and got up from the table.

"Danielle, wait," John said, trying to stop her. He stood up and grabbed her arm, but she quickly swatted him away.

With a stream of tears and mascara running down her eyes, she whispered, "Go to hell, John," and left the restaurant.

John sat back down at the table and thought everything over. "Mother fucker," he whispered to himself.

Once Danielle got outside, she headed for her car. The only problem was that she didn't drive there. John did. Danielle stomped her stiletto clad foot down on the concrete of the parking lot. "Shit," she cried, pulling out her powder compact and trying as best as she could to wipe away the mascara ridden tear track with a shaking finger. After that task was completed, she pulled out her phone to call Brittany. She flipped open her phone and scrolled down her contact list. She was just about to hit the call button when a strong hand reached from behind her and closed her phone.

"Go away, John…" Danielle sighed, taking a few steps forward to get away from him.

"What, are you going to walk home?" he asked.

"I'd rather walk home than sit in a car with you," she growled, turning around and shooting him the familiar glare of hatred. "Besides, Brittany will come pick me up if I call her."

"You can't keep depending on her. Trust me, Danielle, you're running her to the breaking point. She is going to get sick of you really quick. Hell, with what I've heard from Chris, she's nearly there. Just one more step, and you're going to push her over the edge. You don't want to do that, do you? Do you still want to walk home?"

Danielle looked at the ground and slowly nodded her head.

"Fine, but don't call me when your feet start hurting," he said, shrugging and nodding at her shoes that just happened to have a very high heel on them. He turned around and started walking to his car.

Danielle pursed her lips and squeezed the last bit of tears out of her eyes. "John, wait," she said, scuffling up to him.

John turned around and smiled at her. "That's what I thought."

"Just do me a favor, please?" she asked.

"What?"

"Just none of your rap music on the way home, okay?"

"Sure."

* * *

Brittany was having quite the peaceful evening at home while Danielle was out with John. Her night consisted of watching television, flicking through fashion magazines, and having an hour long phone conversation with Chris.

She was lounged across the couch, perusing the latest issue of _Cosmopolitan_. The door blasted open, but she didn't even bother to move. In fact, she didn't even flinch.

"How was it?" Brittany asked, not looking at Danielle or removing her eyes from the magazine.

"Screw you," Danielle said as she quickly slammed the door shut and hurried to her room.

"Good. Glad you had a good time then," Brittany said, secretly laughing to herself after Danielle had shut herself in her own prison.

* * *

"Cheer up, man. You're such a downer," Chris said to John at the next Monday Night RAW show. "I take it that the thing with Danielle didn't go so well, huh?"

"Does it ever?" John sighed, pulling his new eight bit t-shirt over his head.

"Well, why do you think that is?"

John opened a new pack of sweatbands, and crumpled up the plastic wrapper, throwing it at Chris. "I don't know. I don't want to know. I'm pretty sure it has something to do with me, because I know it's not her."

Chris broke down in a fit of laughter. "You are the most dense little bastard I've ever met in my life."

"What the fuck are you talking about? I'm trying the best I can, man."

"No, you're not trying at all, man. You're not thinking about her and what she might want to hear. You're doing what you think is right, but that's not what you should do. You need to think about what would make _her_ feel good about this whole thing. Taking her out to dinner at the restaurant you dumped her in, which was a bitch move, by the way, isn't going to cut it," Chris explained.

"Yeah, this coming from the man that just got a divorce."

"But I already have another chick," Chris grinned.

"Screw you."

"No thanks. I'm not Batista."

"I really need to save my relationship with Danielle, man," John sighed, lightly pounding the locker in front of him.

"Well, my friend, you are going to have to work a bit harder at that than I would have to."

"And why is that?"

"You can't just run around saving things. After all, you're not Chris Jericho."

"Yeah, but you aren't Superman," John said, rolling his eyes.

"Neither are you, my friend. Neither are you."

**A/N: Wow, long time, no update.**

**Danielle, I now pass the torch…pen…keyboard…whatever, to you.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I posted a new storyyyyy. I'm not quite sure how I feel about it yet, so you should read it and tell me. It's quite different, so…yeah.**

"Come on guys, this isn't funny!" John whined, stomping his foot like a whiny four year old that was denied cookies before dinner. He looked around the room and looked each of the men in front of him in the eye. Chris Jericho had led him into asking Randy Orton and Triple H for relationship advice.

John had just finished explaining everything to the men in the room with him. Randy Orton was biting his lip and trying not to laugh at his friend's idiocy. Triple H was staring at John with is jaw dropped. Chris was leaning against the locker, snickering to himself.

"Damnit, Randy!" John exclaimed, still not getting over Randy's reaction. "At least put your damn pants on!" John said, pointing to the denim in Randy's hands.

"Hey, it's easy access," Randy replied, pointing to the wrestling trunks he was wearing. "How do you think I get so much more than you?" Randy asked, folding his pants up and putting them back in his suitcase.

"You guys are both fucking retarded," Triple H said, shaking his head and leaving the room.

"Alright, since Randy it too busy admiring his thighs…" John said, rolling his eyes. Randy was standing in front of the full length mirror, staring at himself. "Chris, how long do we have until show time?"

"Eh, like three hours or something," Chris said, looking at his watch.

"Well," John said, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket, "is there any chance that you can get Brittany down here without Danielle knowing?"

"Why can't you call her yourself?" Chris asked.

"Because the bitch hates me," John stated.

"Don't call her a bitch, dude. She's not."

"Yeah, not to you," John huffed.

"Well, I suppose I could ask her. But why don't you want Danielle here? You do realize she's the one you're trying to get back, right?" Chris questioned.

"Yeah, but…just get Brittany here."

"Fine," Chris sighed, pulling the keys to his rental truck out of his pocket. He twirled them around his index finger and said, "See you later."

* * *

"Answer, damnit…" Chris mumbled into his phone, only hearing the ringing tone as he called Brittany.

"Chris? Aren't you supposed to be at work?" Brittany asked from the other line.

"Well, yeah, but um…"

"What's up?"

"I don't know how to really say this without you freaking out."

"I don't freak out easily, Chris," Brittany assured him.

"Yeah, right…"

"I heard that."

"Okay, fine. Here it is. John wants you to come down to the arena tonight."

"Bye, Chris."

"No! Don't hang up. Please…"

"What sort of stupid scheme did he concoct this time?" Brittany wondered. She knew there was no end to John's stupidity.

"I don't know. I'm just the messenger. Will you please just come with me?" Chris pleaded.

"Fine."

"Just one more thing."

"Yes?"

"Don't kill the messenger."

* * *

"Alright, what do you want, Cena?" Brittany asked, storming up to the former WWE Champion in the hallway.

"Did Danielle see you leave? Does she know you're here?" John asked in a hurry.

"No and no. She was sleeping. I left her a note saying that Chris has the night off and we went out for some drinks. Satisfied?" Brittany snapped, crossing her arms and tapping her foot impatiently.

"No, actually, I called you here to ask you a favor."

"You want me to—Why isn't that man wearing pants?" Brittany asked. Randy Orton had just jogged past them in his pre match warm up, wearing just his wrestling trunks.

"You don't know Randy very well, do you?"

"No, but I should…" Brittany sighed, staring at Randy's figure going the other way.

"_Anyways_, about that favor…" John said, snapping Brittany out of Randy World and back into reality.

"What of it?"

"I need you to figure out all of these for me," he said, handing her the piece of paper he had earlier.

Brittany unfolded it and looked it over. "Danielle's favorite color…favorite number…favorite television show…Shouldn't you know these already? How long were you two together?"

"I have a bad memory," John blushed.

"Yeah, you also have a bad…never mind. What's in it for me?"

"Well you pretty much already have Chris so…"

"Forget it, John. You're useless."

"But are you going to do it?"

Brittany let out a heavy sigh. "I guess."

* * *

_This guy has to know at least half of these already_, Brittany thought, looking over the list. It read:

_1. Danielle's favorite color?_

_2. Danielle's favorite number?_

_3. Danielle's favorite television show?_

_4. Danielle's favorite type of cheese?_

_5. Danielle's favorite type of weather?_

_6. Danielle's favorite type of font?_

_7. Danielle's favorite book?_

_8. Danielle's favorite animal?_

_9. Danielle's favorite food?_

_10. Danielle's favorite Disney Princess?_

_11. Danielle's favorite movie?_

_12. Danielle's favorite type of computer?_

_13. Danielle's favorite childhood memory?_

_14. Danielle's favorite song?_

_15. Danielle's favorite season?_

_16. Danielle's favorite flower?_

_17. Danielle's favorite name?_

_18. Danielle's favorite relative?_

_19. Danielle's favorite radio station?_

_20. Danielle's favorite drink?_

"Favorite font? Why the fuck…" Brittany whispered, reading the list in full.

_John Cena is one deranged little man._


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Make it a speedy one, Danielle (please?). I'm having a shitty day. MY CAT IS GONE D: Okay, so it wasn't really my cat and we were only taking care of it until it was big enough to go back to the humane society, but still…**

"Here, take this," Brittany said, gently tossing a crumpled up piece of paper to Danielle who was lounging on the couch. In recent days, she had been moving around the apartment more. Gone were her days of just sitting and crying in her bed, doing nothing unless Brittany made her.

Danielle unrolled the paper and read it's contents, her eyes nearly bulging out of her face. "What the hell is this?" she asked.

"It's from John, so it's clearly fucked up," Brittany said, rolling her eyes. "I swear, that man is so retarded. I don't even know what he's doing or why you continue to put up with him."

"I'm _not_ putting up with him," Danielle scoffed, folding the paper up nicely and setting it next to her on the couch.

"Then why haven't you moved on? I'm sure that Chris has some lovely friends that we could set you up with," Brittany suggested.

"Why haven't I moved on? Oh, because it hurts so bad to see him flirt with that girl every week on TV, even though I know it's scripted. Because I hate the way he wrestles. Because I hate the way he thinks he's so eloquent on the microphone. Because…because I'm still in love with him, damnit!" Danielle ranted, standing up straight off the couch.

Brittany's eyes widened at Danielle's sudden outburst. "Did you tell him that?"

"Hell no, I didn't tell him! He can't know. If he knew, he'll think that he did nothing wrong, and he did a hell of a lot of wrong, Brit. He did so much wrong that I don't even think he can fix it. And what the hell is up with this list? What the hell is he going to do, make me a fucking billboard with that? He asked what my favorite font is! What is that shit?!"

"I don't know," Brittany sighed, rolling her eyes. "Just answer the questions and see what he wants."

"Oh, I'll answer those damn questions, alright," Danielle said, sounding determined. She grabbed a hardcover book off the bookshelf and picked the paper off from the couch. She sat down, unfolded the paper and put it on the book so she could answer the questions.

* * *

_1. Danielle's favorite color?  
Three years and you don't know my favorite color? What kind of boyfriend are you?_

_2. Danielle's favorite number?  
One: the number of brain cells you have, the number of torn pecs you've suffered, and the number of balls you're going to have once I get through with you._

_3. Danielle's favorite television show?  
Whatever show you haven't tainted with your presence._

_4. Danielle's favorite type of cheese?  
What kind of a question is that?_

_5. Danielle's favorite type of weather?  
Stormy so I can hope the wind carries you away._

_6. Danielle's favorite type of font?  
Seriously, John, that's worse than the cheese question._

_7. Danielle's favorite book?  
Any book is fine. I think every book is more interesting than listening to you talk._

_8. Danielle's favorite animal?  
I would say a dog because they're loyal, but I think I've called you a dog before, and that's a disgrace to the poor animal._

_9. Danielle's favorite food?  
You should know that by now, you asshole._

_10. Danielle's favorite Disney Princess?  
What are you, a five year old girl?_

_11. Danielle's favorite movie?  
__**Titanic**__ because Rose let's that fucker fall into the bottom of the ocean. You go girl._

_12. Danielle's favorite type of computer?  
Laptop because it's easier to pick up and throw at your big head. But I suppose a desktop would hit harder._

_13. Danielle's favorite childhood memory?  
Any time before I met you is a good memory._

_14. Danielle's favorite song?  
The chorus of the crowd chanting "Cena sucks."_

_15. Danielle's favorite season?  
Winter so there's a chance you'll spin out on the freeway._

_16. Danielle's favorite flower?  
Whatever ones die the fastest._

_17. Danielle's favorite name?  
I don't know, but I'll tell you one thing. It sure as hell isn't John Felix Anthony Cena._

_18. Danielle's favorite relative?  
Who needs family when I have an ex-boyfriend like you?_

_19. Danielle's favorite radio station?  
Whatever station isn't playing your crappy shit you like to call music._

_20. Danielle's favorite drink?  
Vodka because if I drink enough of it, you don't look like Marky Mark._

* * *

Brittany looked over what Danielle had written. She nearly died of laughter.

Danielle didn't find it very funny. "What are you laughing about?" she rudely asked, still in her angry mode from just finishing her answers.

"This is great," Brittany stammered, wiping a tear of joy from her eye. "Look, if you love him like you say you do, he'll never know by reading this."

"Well, that's kind of the point," Danielle said, putting the book back on the shelf.

"I'll give it to Chris and I'll have him give it to John, okay?"

"Whatever."

* * *

"Come on, this really isn't funny!" John whined while his friends roared with laughter. He had just finished reading the note out loud to Chris, Randy, and Hunter.

"Hate to break it to you, kid, but it is pretty damn funny," Hunter said, patting John on the back.

"How is this funny? She completely hates me!"

"No, she doesn't," Chris assured him.

"Um, Jericho? It kind of seems like she does," Randy said, agreeing with John.

"Randy, I know you're not used to wearing pants, but I think those are too tight for you and is messing with your mind," Jericho said, causing Randy to check his waistline. "John, she doesn't hate you."

"Did you not hear the tone of her writing? She used some pretty strong words and phrases," John reasoned with Chris.

"If she put that much emotion into it, she doesn't hate you. Trust me."

"Trusting you has never been a good thing," John said.

"Hey, I'm Y2J. I'm here to save you."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Danielle, I am so sorry. When I last told you I was working on this, I was about halfway done with this chapter (which was completely different) and then my desktop crashed and I lost it.**

"You hate me, don't you?" John asked, sitting in the living room of Danielle and Brittany's apartment.

"Hate is a bit of a strong word, John. Don't you think?" Danielle muttered, distracting herself by looking at her cuticles. "Damn, I need a manicure."

"I'm sorry," John sighed.

"Sorry doesn't cut it."

"But how many times have I apologized?"

"Sorry is just a word. Words have no true value," Danielle solemnly stated, bringing her hand closer to her face and squinting her eyes. "Ew! I have a hangnail!"

"But didn't you just say that hate is a strong word? It would have meaning then, wouldn't it?"

"Wow, John, I am shocked. For once, your pea-sized brain has actually outdone your goldfish memory. Excellent."

"I'll do you one better," John said, reaching into his pocket.

"Oh, you've already done me a couple…" Danielle sighed.

"Look, you'll get over it if you just come back with me like I know you want to," John said, unfolding the piece of paper he carried around with him. "But on another note…What the hell was up with this?" He held up the list he had made.

"That was the most retarded list of questions I have ever read in my life," Danielle flatly said, her eyes darkening. "Like, who cares what font I prefer to type with on the computer?"

"Maybe I was going to make you a sign…" John whispered.

"Oh! How about I make _you_ a sign? But surely you're used to it already. But maybe all of the signs saying 'Marry Me Cena' made by underage children aren't enough for you. Don't you feel like a pedophile?"

"That's a bit extreme."

"Extreme? You want extreme? Well, _my_ sign would have a picture of you with a caption that read 'World's Biggest Douchebag.' And do you know where I'd put it? EVERYWHERE! Like that episode of _Viva La Bam_ when it was Don't Feed Phil Day. You can be rest assured that I would put billboards of your likeness all over the place, telling everyone how much of a jackass you are. I think I might even rent out that giant screen in Times Square. Let's see how many fans you have then. I'm sure the marks would love it," Danielle ranted.

"You said you'd want to let me die in the ocean," John whined, pointing at number eleven on the list.

"Men! You guys exaggerate _way_ too much. But here you are, John Cena, making everything about you. Nowhere in that question was the name 'John' or 'Cena' mentioned."

"But I assumed it was implied."

"Do you want to die in the ocean? I can arrange that."

"I just wanted to get to know you better!" John said, defending his reason for making that pathetic list once again.

"How long were we together? I think you know me well enough! Especially well enough to know that if you don't shut your fat trap, I am going to instantly start the last part of my answer to number two!"

John looked at the list, reading number two out loud. "What is Danielle's favorite number? One: the number of brain cells you have, the number of torn pecs you've suffered, and the number of balls you're going to have…Oh, I get it."

"Are you sure? Or do I need to explain it to you? Sorry, Johnny, but you've never quite been the brightest crayon in the box."

* * *

"Gettin' born in the state of Mississippi. Poppa was a coppa and the momma was a hippie," Chris Jericho sang with the utmost enthusiasm, even swinging his free arm around for added emphasis. He had brought over Rock Band so he and Brit could occupy their time while John and Danielle spoke or killed each other. No, Chris couldn't play the bass or guitar. Those were too quiet for him. Not even the drums, which made the most noise, were good enough for him. He had to sing, mainly so he could be as obnoxious as he could.

Brittany didn't want to join in the festivities. She watched in horror as her boyfriend jumped on her bed, singing at the top of his lungs. It was when he got to the chorus of "Dani California" that she had to say something. "Christopher! We are in an apartment! You cannot scream at the top of your lungs!"

Did Chris listen? Of course not.

"Brit, what did you do with the knives?" Danielle asked, running into the room.

"Huh?" Brittany couldn't hear her question over Chris's raucous singing.

"Where did you put the knives?!" Danielle repeated.

"I hid them because I didn't trust you knowing their location with John here!" Brittany hollered back.

"THANKS FOR THE THOUGHT, BRIT!" John yelled from the living room, having heard Brittany's answer.

"I wanted to cut cheese for the crackers but I can't since you hid the knives!"

"Oh well."


End file.
